


Just a Taste

by Raikishi



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bottom Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Breast Fucking, M/M, Male Lactation, Nipple Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:55:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29725188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raikishi/pseuds/Raikishi
Summary: “Oh! What–?” the words stick in Dimitri’s mouth, sticky as honey as he watches a pearl of fluid well to the tip and dribble over Byleth’s knuckle.It’s white in color.Almost like –Oh, Goddess, that was milk.And he’d been –“Oh!” Dimitri bolts upright, mortified when he realizes his chest is damp with something besides sweat.“This is new.”In which Byleth gets to have his fun with Dimtri's chest
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 10
Kudos: 70
Collections: Bottomitri Weekend





	Just a Taste

**Author's Note:**

> For Bottomitri weekend - nipple play prompt :3

“Dimitri …” 

Dimitri mistakes the sound for a little moan of pleasure at first and groans into the kiss in response. He licks into Byleth’s mouth eagerly until he feels a hand pushing at his chest.

“Dima…” Byleth says again. Slowly. Almost hesitantly. 

Dimitri has never heard such uncertainty in his voice before.

Oh. 

Had Byleth changed his mind? 

Hurriedly, Dimitri retracts his hand from Byleth’s pants, bracing himself for a rejection, replaying the last few seconds, despairing over each detail. Had he pushed too far? He didn’t think so. They’d only been kissing, enjoying the feel of one another, and it’d certainly been far tamer than some of their harried trysts during the war.

Oh – but perhaps … now that the war was ended, Byleth had changed his mind about – 

Dimitri yelps in surprise, the sound wrenched out of him as Byleth seizes a nipple between thumb and pointer and _pinches_. 

“Ouch–!” Dimitri exclaims, even though it does not hurt at all. Far from. In fact – 

He squirms at the little bolt of pleasure that flares through him, dragging his fist over his groin when his cock twitches in his trousers. 

Obviously, his body has not yet caught up to the fact that they’ve stopped.

“Professor?”

Dimitri blushes, rubbing a hand over his mouth to stifle a groan at the feel of familiar callouses against his chest. His nipples perk readily and Dimitri loses his breath as Byleth’s fingers rub over them in a slow coaxing motion. Helpless to resist, Dimitri arches his back, breath hitching as Byleth runs his thumb around the areola, massaging lightly before digging into muscle and _squeezing_ – 

“Oh! What–?” the words stick in Dimitri’s mouth, sticky as honey as he watches a pearl of fluid well to the tip and dribble over Byleth’s knuckle. 

It’s white in color. 

Almost like – 

Oh, Goddess, that _was_ milk.

And he’d been – 

“Oh!” Dimitri bolts upright, mortified when he realizes his chest is damp with something besides sweat. 

“This is new,” Byleth says, confused but largely unphased. Ever the serene strategist in the face of something unfamiliar. He repeats the squeezing motions again, slow and methodical in his explorations and heedless of the turmoil in Dimitri’s mind.

Dimitri fluctuates wildly between arching into the steady massage or shying away, humiliation and need warring loudly in his ears and – 

“Right?” Byleth punctuates the question with a squeeze and Dimitri’s thoughts tumble away into murk and fog, pleasure swallowing away all else. He grabs blindly for Byleth’s wrist, intent on displacing – 

Another squeeze –

“Byleth,” Dimitri rasps, uncertain what he is even asking for.

The humiliation is still there, just simmering embers in his periphery, but something else looms over it. Something heated and needy twisting in his stomach. His fingers flex around the fine bone of Byleth’s wrist, but Byleth strokes a thumb absently over his nipple and Dimitri loses all strength in his grip. Another pinch and Dimitri has to bite his tongue to stifle a moan.

“Do you think we should ask Mercedes?” Byleth asks and _surely_ he must know what he’s doing. Must _see_ and _feel_ the way Dimitri is trembling – 

“ _No.”_

Byleth gives him a _look_. The same one that says – “I know you’re hiding an injury again Dimitri and I won’t nag you to treat your injuries but you should really not allow yourself to bleed out” – that’d followed him through his academy days and out the other side of the war.

“It’s not an injury,” Dimitri offers weakly, “As a matter of fact … I think it’s –“ 

He cannot say the word.Something about giving this form – he spies a trail of milk dribbling down his pec and well just beneath the muscle – makes his head spin. He hunches his shoulder and he tries to shuffle back only to find Byleth’s fingers on his nipples still.

Byleth makes a thoughtful noise under his breath and then –

Dimitri bites his tongue bloody when Byleth puts his mouth on his chest. He’s certain he makes a noise but cannot hear anything over the sudden roar in his ears. Cannot see or think of anything besides the warmth of Byleth’s mouth and the hot drag of Byleth’s clever tongue over his nippleCannot breathe around the thick blurt of arousal that burns through him. 

It lasts for no more than a few seconds but it leaves Dimitri weak-limbed and trembling, and just as breathless as the time Byleth had taken him before the saint statutes –

_“– blasphemous, Professor – “ Dimitri mumbles, trying valiantly not to look at the stern glower of Saint Macuil._

_“Mercs are not holy men, Dimitri,” Byleth says but his cock certainly feels holy as it drags hot and slick against Dimitri’s prostate – Goddess,_ that _was blasphemous, “And neither are you, but if you’d like me to stop, you need only ask – “_

He had not been able to ask then.

He’s certainly not going to ask Byleth to stop now.

“It tastes like milk,” despite Dimitri’s silence, Byleth pulls away all too quickly. 

A glistening line of saliva trails out between Byleth’s mouth and Dimitri’s chest, breaking over Byleth’s bottom lip and leaving a shining spot Dimitri wants to lick.

Dimitri twitches at the thoughtful noise Byleth makes, blushing to the roots of his hair when he recognizes it. It’s the same little hum of interest whenever Byleth was served a new and interesting dish and well – 

Dimitri doesn’t know what to do with that information. 

“I - yes. I do believe it … is,” Dimitri offers hesitantly, and then because he is an utter fool, “Does … does it taste good?” 

A mental image of Felix glowering at him floats to the forefront of his mind – as was wont to appear whenever Dimitri posed a particularly foolish question and he hurriedly waves it away with a grimace. 

“Ah, don’t answer –“

“… Sweeter than goat’s milk,” Byleth proclaims.

Dimitri doesn’t know what to make of that either. 

Did that mean it was good? 

Tasty? 

A little part of him despairs at his own thoughts and another part bristles at Byleth’s appraisal, craving something more complimentary and – oh Goddess. 

He resists the urge to bury his face in his hands as embarrassment burns through him.

Perhaps sensing his turmoil, Byleth squeezes his knee in comfort, “It tastes good.”

“Thank you…?” 

“Is this the first time it’s happened?”

“I believe so…”

Another of Byleth’s _looks_ again. This time with a little hint of fond exasperation. The look that said – “Dimitri, ignoring your injuries does not mean they are not there.”

“Truly it is!” 

“Perhaps it’s because you’ve been eating more. You’ve filled out more these days,” in demonstration, Byleth fits his hand around Dimitri’s waist and squeezes, making a little pleased noise under his breath as he gropes shamelessly at Dimitri’s body – not quite rough just … _careless_ in a way that makes Dimitri buzz _._

People were not meant to manhandle a prince, much less a king. After having been crowned, the number of people comfortable even laying a hand on his shoulder had dwindled down a handful. The number of people who could touch him like this … well, that was Byleth’s right alone. 

Dimitri buck as Byleth teases a finger around his nipple, biting his knuckles at the tingling pleasure that roils over him. He wants Byleth to pinch again. To squeeze down and grip him roughly. 

Byleth’s eyes flick up to meet his as if he’d heard the request and a faint smile crosses his mouth. That same beatific smile that’d made Dimitri fall hard and fast as a prince. The same one that makes his heartbeat roar now. 

Byleth’s hand has slowed to a stop, hovering just over Dimitri’s left pec, and Dimitri wills it to move, pleading silently as he holds Byleth’s gaze.

“That might be it,” he says just to break the silence. He runs a hand up Byleth’s shoulder, nearly breathless as he asks, “I – I don’t think we have to involve Mercedes … do we?”

There must be something to the way he frames that question because Byleth’s eyes go dark and hungry. The intensity with which Byleth’s gaze drags down his body makes Dimitri’s stomach tighten and his thighs clench.

“No …” Byleth breathes out, the singular word spoken slowly and thoughtfully with such clear hunger, Dimitri trembles. It’s the same way he’d sounded before the mock bottle at Gronder. Hungry for victory as he laid out strategies in his mind.

Deciding how best to conquer. 

Dimitri shivers at the thought. 

“I don’t think so,” Byleth says. He runs two fingers up Dimitri’s chest, loosely following an invisible line up the center. The touch is so idle Dimitri does not expect the abrupt pinch to his left nipple and yelps, kicking out in protest, nearly drowning out Byleth’s next words.

“I see,” Byleth chuckles, soft and low and terribly knowing, “You want _me_ to milk you, don’t you Dima?” 

Dimitri’s cock jerks so hard in his trousers he’s nearly dizzy with it.

“ _Yes. Please!”_

He can’t put the words to form, too overwhelmed by desperate want. Cannot do anything but bob his head.

Thankfully Byleth does not make him beg for more. 

His hand comes down decisively on Dimitri’s pec, massaging and pinching, the touch on just the right side of rough and splendidly warm. 

Those hands –

The same hands that’d guided him –

That’d – 

Dimitri flushes all over, his thoughts roaring like a tempest. He bites his tongue, watching with rapt attention as milk dribbles down his chest and wells in the web of flesh between Byleth’s thumb and pointer. Another squeeze and he leaks enough it starts to run over the back of Byleth’s hand.

“Byleth,” he gasps, slack-jawed and spellbound, as Byleth brings his hand to his mouth, whimpering as the pretty bow of Byleth’s mouth parts over his fingers and sucks down, drinking Dimitri’s –

He palms his cock, intent on just one quick stroke for some measure of relief but Byleth chooses that moment to grasp his nipple and _pinch_ –

“Byleth!” Dimitri bolting upright, his hand flying up to grasp Byleth’s wrist. Undeterred, Byleth does it again, tugging, the edge of pain underscoring pleasure, making it that much sharper. That much brighter. 

Dimitri’s nipples tingle when Byleth lets him go, over-sensitized and aching. His breathing echoes loudly in the room as Byleth squeezes him again and again, milking him until his chest is a filthy stain of milk and sweat. Dimitri gasps when Byleth tweaks his nipple again, the suddenness of it making his back arch. He spies a faint smile on Byleth’s mouth but his vision blurs out when Byleth starts to squeeze him again.

And surely that must be it. Dimitri has no reference but how much milk is typically produced for women, much less for men but surely – _surely_ he has nothing more to give. But Byleth continues, his motions methodical. The faintly clinical aspect of Byleth’s touch makes it all the more overwhelming. Makes him feel like something on display. Something for Byleth to puzzle over and figure out.

“Byleth –“ Dimitri says again, shaking apart as he struggles to hold Byleth’s gaze, mouth parting to plead for him to stop. To give him a moment because his nipples are sore and _aching_ – 

Dimitri shouts as Byleth’s mouth closes over his nipple, writhing beneath the splendid heat of Byleth’s mouth. His tongue rasps over the swollen nub and Dimitri arches for it, whining as Byleth follows up with his teeth and flicks out a sharp bite that makes Dimitri whimper. 

Between his legs, his cock throbs in a bid for attention and he grinds the palm of his hand against it as Byleth suckles at his chest. His entire body is a raw ache, overwhelmed with need. Every motion, every light tease or sharp bite, goes straight to his cock, and his ears ring with the sound of his own cries as Byleth drinks him down. 

Goddess – 

Dimitri shoves one hand frantically into his trousers, gripping the base of his cock, intent on stroking himself to completion just like this but abruptly, Byleth pulls away.  
Dimitri's vision sways as Byleth shoves him aside. Shoves him down.

“By – Byleth?” 

His former Professor looms over him, cheeks pink with desire and eyes dark. His gaze snaps to Dimitri’s hand, hungrily watching Dimitri stroke himself before darting up to his face. 

“Dima,” he groans and Dimitri goes cross-eyed as Byleth slides their hips together and grinds the underbelly of his cock against Dimitri’s knuckles. His hands move from Dimitri’s chest to his shoulder, gripping roughly, “Let me – _fuck,_ Dima, can I fuck your tits –?“

Dimitri rears as if he’d been slapped. He can’t breathe. Can’t think. His cock sways so hard he feels it down to his balls, as arousal tears in him in two. 

The vulgarity of the statement – 

The sheer _audacity_ of the ask – 

Goddess – he didn’t – he has no idea how to respond. Has no idea how to –

Byleth blushes and ducks his head, brow furrowing, “Sorry … I didn’t mean –“

Dimitri cannot bear to have the offer snatched from him. He releases his cock, ignoring the ache between his legs, to bring his arms together, gripping his elbows as he props his – his _tits_ up in offering – shuddering at the stunned arousal that fogs Byleth’s face.

“If you … if you’d please.”

Byleth slides up his body quickly, practically shaking as he braces his knees around Dimitri’s chest. He lowers his hips slowly, hovering for a moment just over Dimitri’s chest. Together, they watch a thick drop of pre-cum spill from the head and pool into the valley of Dimitri’s pecs. Byleth follows the droplet with a finger, pushing into that space hard and rough, much the same way he’d fuck Dimitri’s ass with those same fingers and Dimitri’s ass clenches at the obscene motion. 

“It’s wet,” Byleth notes and Dimitri burns with the callous assessment. Byleth retrieves his fingers to seize one of Dimitri’s nipples away, squeezing hard to wring out a few more droplets of milk that he smears into the dip between Dimitri’s pecs, “So wet …” He bears down roughly, gripping Dimitri’s pecs with both hands and squeezing them closer as he fucks slowly – achingly slowly – into the space between them.

It’s incredible to watch.

Byleth is a vision like this, face flushed pink with desire, his eyes dark with pleasure. He licks his lips as he stares Dimitri down, the motion like a ravenous beast eying its prey. Dimitri could watch him forever. Could watch –

He swallows, gaze dropping down to the ruddy cock head pushing into the center of his chest, between his – between his –

“Your _tits.”_

_Goddess_ – Dimitri’s ass clenches, burning all over with humiliation and desperate need as each stroke of Byleth’s cock smears with pre-cum and milk and stains his chest and clavicle with utter filth. 

He submits on a quiet groan, bearing his chest to Byleth, mouth watering as he watches a pearlescent bead of pre-cum stain drip over his collarbone and dribble down between his tits, pooling in the center and then slip down his belly. He can’t look away. Can’t do anything but gasp and pant as Byleth’s balls roll over his chest, as Byleth’s cock fucks into that space and uses him as – 

“Squeeze them tighter for me,” Byleth pants, his voice hoarse but all-commanding, “Push them closer. A little – a- _ah – yes – ”_

In reward, Byleth seizes one of Dimitri’s nipples and _wrenches_ with a cruelty Dimitri does not expect. He also does not expect the shivering mewl that leaves his mouth or the frantic punch of his hips as they jerk off the bed. Does not expect the fervency with which he wants it again. That callous pain. That shivering all-consuming pleasure the sharp pinch had elicited. He wants to be toyed with. To be taken and _used –_

A ghost of a smile crosses Byleth’s face. Small and sly and terribly wicked. He fucks faster in the space between Dimitri’s chest and bears down almost cruelly on Dimitri’s abused nipples, raking the roughest sword callouses over him until Dimitri nearly weeps.

“Good,” Byleth whispers. Another wicked twist of his nipples and Dimitri sobs, “That’s good –“

Dimitri whines at him, bowing his head and letting his tongue flick out – 

Byleth swears and bucks, his cock dragging a filthy trail of pre and spit over Dimitri’s neck. 

“You …” Byleth struggles for the words, his face red as he releases one of Dimitri’s nipples to seize his hair. Dimitri fights his grip at first, shuddering at the sharp pinpricks of pain dotting his scalp as he tries to resist. 

Byleth’s eyes blow wide, incredulous and a little wild, as his hips stutter over Dimitri’s chest. 

“Please … let me,” Dimitri gasps and bows his head again, dragging his tongue in one long loving lick over the tip of Byleth’s cock as it crests the swell of his chest, moaning when it twitches and pulses over his tongue and drags another filthy trail over his lips. Byleth’s grip in his hair tightens deliciously. 

“You – you – “ Byleth shakes his head.

He utters a swear under his breath and holds Dimitri in place as he fucks his chest faster. Each stroke longer as he pushes up far enough the tip of his cock grazes Dimitri’s mouth each time. 

His hand works at Dimitri’s nipple constantly. In the buzzing, intoxicating pleasure swelling over him, Dimitri is aware that he’s still leaking, still dribbling milk over his chest and stomach, smearing the heavy weight of Byleth’s balls and slicking his cock. He closes his eyes as pleasure builds in steady waves, a rising tide cresting over him, his entire body drawing up tight. He squeezes his tits together, tugging at the nipple Byleth had left alone, matching his pace as he lays his tongue over his bottom teeth and curls it around Byleth’s cock each time he fucks towards his mouth, reveling in the lightning score of pleasure that rips over him each time Byleth groans. 

Byleth buckles and swears, low and foul and full of all the expletives one would expect of a mercenary. He yanks at Dimitri’s hair, fingers twining in golden locks, his other hand toying with a nipple, twisting and pulling deliciously brutally as he cums all over Dimitri’s chest, spilling over his clavicle and nipples. 

Byleth makes a sound like a snarl as he chases the aftershocks of his own pleasure, rutting into the space provided for him and it’s all Dimitri can do to hold still and obedient for him. After some time, Byleth releases him, watching him with a hazy gaze as he drops Dimitri back down. 

“Dima,” Byleth growls, his voice rasping and hoarse, and Dimitri’s skin pricks at the attention, tempted to crawl into his lap.

Byleth doesn’t allow him the opportunity, only bends his head as he slides his fingers over Dimitri’s pec, fingers digging into the muscle and lifting it up. Dimitri’s nipple throbs at the attention, a sensation echoing down to his cock.

Byleth’s mouth closes over his nipple again and it wrenches a scream from him. There’s no teeth this time but Dimitri is so sore just the heat of Byleth’s mouth is too much to bear. But still – his fingers flex over Byleth’s shoulder, unable to push him away. He only shuts his eyes and wails when Byleth moves to the other, faintly aware of the pulse between his legs and the downward glide of Byleth’s fingers. 

Dimitri sucks in a sharp hiss as Byleth breeches him, clenching down hard. The digit is slick with something – certainly not oil – just enough that the glide is rough; but, Dimitri opens up all the same, too strung out to protest. He snarls – some pitiful animal groan – as Byleth bears down on his prostate. There’s no finesse. None of the clever wicked tease Byleth typically wields like a weapon. Byleth only presses in and in, deep as he can go, and strokes Dimitri’s prostate as he mouths at a nipple and – that’s it, it’s all it takes –

Dimitri’s orgasm shivers through him and he cums on a shuddering gasp, spilling between their bodies.

Byleth strokes him steadily through it, still toying with his nipples until Dimitri whimpers and tries to squirm away. He drifts for a moment, his arms and legs akimbo, dimly aware that Byleth’s still petting his body and more than willing to let him do it until he feels the filthy drip of seed towards his throat and neck.

Byleth makes a face - half contrite, half amused but somehow still grimacing - and pushes his fingers through the wet mess.

“Hm … looks like a necklace."

“ _Byleth!_ ”


End file.
